Our love is like a Gluten-Free Cookie
by nononoNips
Summary: Kink Meme: Jean accidentally sends a semi lewd selfie to some one after and awkward conversation, they start exchanging more pictures.


Jean deduced that Church was created for the pure intention of making him think impure thoughts. He sat at the back loosely following the lead of the of Father Bodt, Jean eventually just closed his eyes and laid back against the pew. That earned him an elbow to the ribs, giving him a look. After that he attempted to keep his eyes forward, focused on the Priest's face, his mouth moved but Jean didn't hear any noise, only bits and pieces of sentences. He thought he heard "proud," and "loyal" but then he zoned out staring at the pretty pianist, who was the Father Bodt's wife, he copper curls cascading down her freckled face in ringlets.  
Jean yawned, maybe one day, when he got his shit together he would have a beauty like that. Kissing him on the cheek every morning before he left for his dream job, holding a brief case and gladly accepting the packed lunch she gave him. She would linger in the door way to watch him load into the car. She would smugly spin the key ring around her index finger materializing outside the car window at the same time he realized he had forgotten his keys.  
Jean sighed, it would be nice.

At home, Jean changed quickly into sweats, catching a glimpse of himself while walking by the mirror, had hadn't gotten a chance to go down into the garage for his clean laundry, and was pleasantly surprised at what he saw in the looking back at him.  
His out grown military style under cut, had grown since coming back from the Marines half a year ago, and he still kept the morning work out in his routine. His arms where thick, and his abs softly defined, he was proud of the dark trail of hair that gathered thickly right before it disappeared past the territory of his waist band. Proud of the over all image reflecting back at him. He smirked at himself, and nearly jumped out of his skin when his baby sister poked her blonde head in.

"What are you doing?"

He smoothly leaned against the counter, despite his bright red face. "N-Nothing!" he laughed nervously, a little to loud. "Um, did you need something?"

"Mom says that since I have dance class you have to watch the house, and make dinner yourself."

"What are you guys gonna do for dinner?" he tiled his head.

Krista jumped up and down, "Pizza!" he smiled at her, kneeling down to her height.

"How come your big bro doesn't get any?"

"Cause your StuuUUUuuupid~!" she giggled, sticking her tongue out at him, before speeding back down the hallway. He chuckled, and stood. Walking the opposite direction, to the garage. When he opened the door, the smell of soap, and sun baked concrete. He got to work on his first chore of the day, sorting clothes. He paired socks, folded his sisters little leotards, and piled her tutus, he instantly straightened his mothers sun dresses and hung them on hangers, from the rod above the washer. For his own clothes he merely tossed them into a basket to bring up later. Jean then unfolded the ironing board, lint rolled and pressed his fathers button down shirts, as well as hanging his ties to dry on a separate hanger.  
He carefully draped all the clothes over his arm, and carried two laundry baskets back inside, depositing them on each respective bed, or closet.

His Mom was at her desk, tapping the eraser end of her pencil on her partly blank legal pad. His mother in one word, could be described as, well, a hippie. With circle specs, colorful long skirts, and long straight hair, that she pulled into bun to keep it out of her way. He smiled absentmindedly as he stopped in the doorway of the small, cluttered office. She was a romance novelist, under the name Maria. Famous for the best selling novella, Battle a Trost, which featured the love life of a lowly black market prostitute, and a esteemed military veteran, who lost his arm in the war.  
He only knows that from the Wikipedia page, and he most defiantly doesn't have a paperback copy, hidden under the corner of his mattress, or anything.

Aside form writing Novels, his Mom was a part time Yoga teacher, while still being a full time Mommy. He chuckled, and her head shot up, she spun around to face him in her swiveled chair, a smile gracing her naked lips, happily tapping a manicured nail against her chin.

"Yes Honey?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted me to pack you some snacks, for in between classes." He felt a little squeamish in her presence, she had been a Mom way longer than she had been a world class novelist, but the reputation seemed to hang between them. Thick in the air and it lingered. It was a foreboding respect he had learned to recognize ever since his short time in the military.

She sighed dreamily, "That would be lovely." He nodded quickly and ducked out of the room. The kitchen was his second favorite room in the house, the floor was an expanse of black and white checkerboard tiles, their was a large stove, and a big black expensive looking fridge they had actually gotten two months ago from Good Will at a bargain. He toed on the sleek black Rumba, and heard it whirred to life.

Second chore, sweep the kitchen floor, done.

When 2:30 rolled around, and his sister was bouncing off the walls, resisting putting on her coat. He had to promise her a batch of cookies, to get her to sit still long enough for him to apply some lip balm on her before she went out in the dry freezing weather. He couldn't understand how little kids could have such chapped lips!  
Finally twenty minutes later, his Mom and sister where waving good bye to him at the door, he handed his Mom the bag of promised vegan snacks. Home made wheat thins, made from scratch strawberry oat squares, granola, and almond butter rice crisp treats, he was proud of himself. She thanked him, and he handed over the dance bag. His Mom had to run back in when he forgot that he had left Krista's little pink slippers at the door.

At last the rear lights of his Mom's Land Rover disappeared down the street. Their was a scratch at his back door, followed by whimpering, slid the door open a huge dark brown dog bounded in house, circling his legs. Jean flopped down on the couch, the dog jumping up and resting his head on his stomach, wedged between Jean and the couch.  
The human flipped channels, settling on a late showing of Ultimate Spiderman, Jean's favorite show.  
He hummed to himself, regretting not stealing a few Strawberry squares for himself, because he was getting hungry. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and a wet nose prodded his arm, before nudging the phone. He patted the dogs head. It was a text, from Connie.

'Last chance, if you say yes, I can be by ur house in 10 mins! Y/n?'

Jean rolled his eyes, Connie and Sasha had been pestering him to come to a stupid potluck, hosted in the down town library for just the kids that where in Mrs. Hanji's English 2 class. But he didn't like parties, and most definitely not after he had a whole house to himself. He had better things to do dammit! And his favorite episode of Spiderman had just started playing, Nova had started acting weird, and the Guardian's of the Galaxy had been introduced! The he got an idea.

'I have a great idea.'

As he texted it out, his dog, Mike, whimpered.

"This was a great idea!" Connie shouted over the booming music coming from Jean's stereo.

"Yeah, I told you so!" Jean held up the infamous red cup, (as seen in movies) clinking it against Connie's before downing it. If that stupid Bipolar brat, was good for anything, if was brewing home made beer worthy of October fest.  
Jean swayed with the music, the bass rattling in his chest and ears, he had gotten creative and blew up some balloons. Mike was going crazy running around the room, sniffing people at the door. Jean hadn't heard the door bell ring, but apparently Mike did, so he poked Jean's hand and ran to the door. Jean was to busy in his conversation with Mikasa about how great History Civilization class was, so he tugged Connie's sleeve.

"Answer the door." Jean said, purposefully carding his hand through his hair. Connie leaned in.

"Dude, what if it's your Mom?"

"She won't care."

"Well, okay..." Connie slinked to the door, as the songs changed, and faded out into the back ground, a slow song began to play and everyone made their way to the dance floor in couples. Mikasa and Eren, Reiner and Bertl, even Mrs. Hanji grabbed Armin by the hand and paraded him around.

"Sorry for being a bother but-"

BARK! BARK! BARK!

"um, you where saying?"

"Oh, yes, well these are yours, since I can't come to study on Thr-"

The barking persisted, and Jean had done a pretty good job ignoring it up until Connie had yelled across the room. "God Dammit Jean! Put him in the Kitchen!" Jean leaped up and had to drag his dog by the collar into the kitchen, closing the doors.

Who ever was at the front door was gone when Jean go t back, and Connie had helped himself to another two cups of beer. He slung an arm around Jean's shoulders.

"Let me see your phone," he slurred, Jean rolled his eyes but obliged.

"Just no calling China or something, okay?"

"A'Ye-up!" Connie hiccuped and typed away at the keyboard, with one hand, the other still holding the red cup.

An hour later, they party had died down, Jean drove Connie and the others home. Hanji had disappeared somewhere, and after chugging the rest of the beer, Eren -his cousin- screamed out "Peace, Bitches!" and walked home. Which was fortunately only five houses down.  
Jean cleaned up, shoving the infamous red cups into a garbage bag, putting the left overs in Tupperware, and arranging the fold out table back into it's folded up state, returning it to the back of the garage. Mike was scratching at the kitchen door, whimpering again, so he let him out, fed him.  
Once he was sure his trusty companion was taken care of, he pulled off his T-shirt, and sweat pants, leaving only his boxers and holy tube socks on, crawling into bed. Mike was right there, jumping on the bed, curling up right next to Jean, who was more or less sober, if not a little dizzy.

"Your such a good boy." Jean giggled, scratching the dog behind his ears, and flipping him over so scratch his belly. The dog panted happily, dozing off in between. Jean's phone buzzed again, and Mike was up pointing out the obvious again. He pushed the dog's head out of the way of the screen, pressing answer. "hello?"

"Hey~." Came the slurred reply, Jean rolled his eyes.

"Sasha, your drunk." Jean stated matter of factually, she giggled on the other end.

"NoooOOOooo I'm not." she sighed on the other end, he listened carefully, the sound of fabric rustling and another giggle. "I am soOOOooo naked right now~" he could hear the grin in her voice. Despite himself he blushed, him and Sasha used to have a thing, nothing beyond friends with benefits, he had always silently wondered why it puttered out so quickly...

"Lovely." maybe he was lonely, maybe he was drunk, but he suddenly wanted to have what they used to. The make out session between pudding cups, and the food play he had learned to enjoy.

"Hey, hey." she whispered as if she wasn't at home alone, but he knew she was, she didn't bunk with anyone. And lived in half empty dorm, anyway.

"What, what?" he said in an equally hushed tone, humoring her for the sake of hearing her gentle giggle on the other end.

"Send me some nudes!" she said it a little louder than he expected, and he smirked.

"Didn't even buy me a drink..." she chuckled on the other end, he heard her moving around on what he imagined was her futon. Since she couldn't afford a bed just yet.

"Is that a yes?"

"Hold on, let me just-"

"And make sure you get the beast in the picture."

He let out a breathy laugh, "Your so weird." and he hung up so he could take the picture.

He laid out on his bed, pushing his boxers dangerously low on his hips, arching his back, and holding the phone out. He snapped the picture but then remembered that she wanted to see the Beast. He pulled Mike up against his side, and snapped the picture this time, showing an amused smile, placing his other hand low on his abdomen. He clicked Sasha's number, and pressed send. Laughing to himself.  
He got out of bed, and walked into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, and his phone went off again. He walked with swagger back to his bed, crawling up to his phone and settling on his stomach. Mike jumped onto the bed behind him. Jean was surprised there was more than on message in his inbox. Had the photo really looked that good? Had he really been gone that long?

'Uh hello?'

'Um.'

'I'm sorry...'

Jean raised an eyebrow, hadn't she asked him to send them?

'I, uh, i think you have the wrong number...'


End file.
